'Perhaps she has gone to Clynnog Fawr and is waiting for you at the church,' said the wedding guests.
Rhys set off along the track, leading up the mountain towards Clynnog Fawr. The wedding guests followed behind as quickly as they could. But Meinir was not waiting at the church. Rhys turned and ran back towards Nant Gwrtheyrn desperate to find his bride. Meinir's father, weary from the long walk to the church, borrowed a horse and galloped after Rhys. The two men searched the farm again but could not find Meinir. The dark came but they did not stop. They cut torches and scoured the mountain through the night, calling for Meinir to reveal herself.
Rhys and Meinir's father continued to search as the months passed. Then one night Meinir's father did not return from the search. He was never seen again. Rhys was alone in the valley.
The corn went uncut and the cows grew wild as Rhys searched. Summer turned to winter but he would not stop. Each day Rhys would walk for miles called out, 'Meinir, Meinir where are you?' Each night he would sit huddled under the great oak tree on the mountain and cry softly, 'Meinir, Meinir where are you?'
Thirty years passed then, one night as Rhys sat shivering under the great tree, storm clouds gathered on the mountain. A flash of lightening struck the tree, splitting it in two. A hideous cry echoed across the valley for, in the flash of light, Meinir's hiding place had been revealed. There, wedged in the hollow trunk of the tree, stood the twisted skeleton of a young woman. All that was left of the wedding dress, that was once so pure and white, were a few grey rags hanging from the bones. Rhys was found next morning lying dead beneath the tree, with Menir's corpse in his arms.
The curse of Nant Gwrtheyrn had left the valley desolate and empty for the second time. It would be another 200 years before Nant Gwrtheyrn became ruined for the third and final time.
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Chapter 14?St. Eilian and the Leaping Deer.
In the 5th Century Britain was a dark pagan country. Following the success of Saint Patrick in Ireland, further missionaries were sent by the Pope to Britain to bring the word of God and return the people to the path of Christianity. The Pope sent many good, pious men on missions to convert the heathens and save them from damnation. One such man was St. Eilian. He sailed from Rome, with his family, in a small boat loaded with all his worldly possessions. Unsure of the nature of Britain and determined to be self-sufficient, Eilian included cattle, sheep and a deer in his cargo.
Eilian was a quiet, confident man, slow to anger but single minded in his task. He had a way with animals. They responded well to his soothing words and the animals became pets during the long voyage. The deer, a handsome stag, was his favourite.
After many weeks at sea, Eilian landed at a small inlet called Porthyrychen on the Island Anglesey and began to unload. The ruler of the Island was Cadwallon Law Hir (Cadwallon Long Hand), Prince of Gwynedd. Word reached him that a strange foreigner had arrived. The Prince sent his men to investigate. Cadwallon's men hid on the cliff and watched as the animals waded ashore and began to climb up from the beach. They were fine looking beasts. Eager to please their master the men decided to ambush Eilian and steal his cows. They knew that Cadwallon would value such prize animals.
Cadwallon's men arranged themselves on each side of the path hidden in the bracken. After a short time Eilian passed them followed by his cattle and sheep. The deer, sensing that something was wrong, hung back from the rest of the animals pawing the ground. The robbers ran from their cover knocked Eilian to the ground and, with loud yells, drove the animals away.
That night, one of Eilian's cows was roasted over a fire pit at Cadwallon's castle as the men celebrated with their master. Later in the evening, when their bellies were full of meat and wine, there was a loud bang on the outer-gate. The guard peered over the battlements and did not believe what he saw. Outside the castle was a large stag and on its back sat a man.
'Who are you and what is your business at this hour?' demanded the guard.
'I am Eilian and I have come for my animals,' replied the man on the stag. The guard ran to the great hall to tell his Prince of the strange caller. Cadwallon laughed when he heard the news.
'Fetch him in, stag and all,' he bellowed. Solemnly Eilian, still astride the stag, was led into the hall. Cadwallon studied his visitor while his men sat silently, waiting for a command from their prince. Menace filled the air.
'What can we do for Eilian?' asked Cadwallon, smirking at his guest.
'You My Lord, have something that belongs to me,' said Eilian firmly.
'And what might that be?' replied the Prince.
'My sheep and cattle. I want them back,' said Eilian.
'Eilian wants his sheep and cattle back,' scoffed Cadwallon to his men. They laughed.
'Do you own any land?' asked Cadwallon, turning back to Eilian.
'I do not,' replied Eilian.
'I see that you are a foreigner, so you have no right to graze on common land,' said the prince adding 'but I am a fair man. When I see that you own some land you can have your animals. Until then I will keep them safe here, with my cattle.'
'You see nothing but your own greed,' answered Eilian. Eilian turned his mount and the stag walked out of the great hall.
That night, as he slept, Cadwallon went blind.
Eilian returned to Porthyrychen and built a church, just to the west of the inlet, beside a small stream. He added a well beside his church and, before long, people began to visit him, to listen to his teachings and to drink the pure water from his well. The water from the well had mysterious powers, curing the sick and, some said, restoring sight. Stories spread far and wide, telling the tale of St. Eilian's sacred well.
Cadwallon, the blind Prince, knew that he had been wrong to steal Eilian's cattle. His heart was full of remorse. He ordered that all of Eilian's livestock should be returned to Eilian and sent the animals back to their rightful owner with a message of repentance. Eilian replied, asking the Prince to visit him without delay. Cadwallon was led on his horse to the holy man's little church at Llaneilian. Seeing Cadwallon's humility and sorrow Elian forgave him. Eilian bathed the prince's eyes and his sight was restored.
'How may I repay you?' asked the prince.
'Let me have enough land to keep my animals on. That is all I ask,' replied the holy man.
'How much do you want?' asked Cadwallon, feeling far less humble now that his sight was restored.
'Let us settle the amount with a race,' answered Eilian.
'What sort of race? Asked the prince.
'Your hunting dogs shall chase my stag, starting from here. The place where they catch him will be the boundary of the land you shall grant me,' replied Eilian.
Cadwallon liked the idea. He owned the fastest hunting dogs in the land. They would soon catch the stag, he thought. He agreed and the race began.
Eilian's stag ran like the wind but the dogs strained to keep up. The stag thundered across the countryside with the dogs close behind. It was going to be a short race. Then, the stag leapt a huge gorge and disappeared into the distance. The dogs, unable to cross the chasm, returned dejected to their master.
The gorge the stag leapt is known today as Llam y Carw (The Deer's Leap). Prince Cadwallon kept his word, and that is how Saint Eilian became one of the most powerful and biggest landowners on Anglesey.
A religious community grew at Llaneilian and for centuries the sacred stream served the holy order well. Pilgrims travelled for miles to pay 1 groat, a sliver coin worth two pence, to drink the healing water and Llaneilian grew into one of the richest churches in Wales.
Table of Contents
Chapter 15?Seiriol The Fair
In the 5th Century Britain was a dark pagan country. Following the success of Saint Patrick in Ireland, further missionaries were sent by the Pope to Britain to bring the word of God and return the people to the path of Christianity. The Pope sent many good, pious men on missions to convert the heathens and save them from damnation. One such man
was St. Eilian. He sailed from Rome, with his family, in a small boat loaded with all his worldly possessions. Unsure of the nature of Britain and determined to be self-sufficient, Eilian included cattle, sheep and a deer in his cargo.
Eilian was a quiet, confident man, slow to anger but single minded in his task. He had a way with animals. They responded well to his soothing words and the animals became pets during the long voyage. The deer, a handsome stag, was his favourite.
After many weeks at sea, Eilian landed at a small inlet called Porthyrychen on the Island Anglesey and began to unload. The ruler of the Island was Cadwallon Law Hir (Cadwallon Long Hand), Prince of Gwynedd. Word reached him that a strange foreigner had arrived. The Prince sent his men to investigate. Cadwallon's men hid on the cliff and watched as the animals waded ashore and began to climb up from the beach. They were fine looking beasts. Eager to please their master the men decided to ambush Eilian and steal his cows. They knew that Cadwallon would value such prize animals.
Cadwallon's men arranged themselves on each side of the path hidden in the bracken. After a short time Eilian passed them followed by his cattle and sheep. The deer, sensing that something was wrong, hung back from the rest of the animals pawing the ground. The robbers ran from their cover knocked Eilian to the ground and, with loud yells, drove the animals away.
That night, one of Eilian's cows was roasted over a fire pit at Cadwallon's castle as the men celebrated with their master. Later in the evening, when their bellies were full of meat and wine, there was a loud bang on the outer-gate. The guard peered over the battlements and did not believe what he saw. Outside the castle was a large stag and on its back sat a man.
'Who are you and what is your business at this hour?' demanded the guard.
'I am Eilian and I have come for my animals,' replied the man on the stag. The guard ran to the great hall to tell his Prince of the strange caller. Cadwallon laughed when he heard the news.
'Fetch him in, stag and all,' he bellowed. Solemnly Eilian, still astride the stag, was led into the hall. Cadwallon studied his visitor while his men sat silently, waiting for a command from their prince. Menace filled the air.
'What can we do for Eilian?' asked Cadwallon, smirking at his guest.
'You My Lord, have something that belongs to me,' said Eilian firmly.
'And what might that be?' replied the Prince.
'My sheep and cattle. I want them back,' said Eilian.
'Eilian wants his sheep and cattle back,' scoffed Cadwallon to his men. They laughed.
'Do you own any land?' asked Cadwallon, turning back to Eilian.
'I do not,' replied Eilian.
'I see that you are a foreigner, so you have no right to graze on common land,' said the prince adding 'but I am a fair man. When I see that you own some land you can have your animals. Until then I will keep them safe here, with my cattle.'
'You see nothing but your own greed,' answered Eilian. Eilian turned his mount and the stag walked out of the great hall.
That night, as he slept, Cadwallon went blind.
Eilian returned to Porthyrychen and built a church, just to the west of the inlet, beside a small stream. He added a well beside his church and, before long, people began to visit him, to listen to his teachings and to drink the pure water from his well. The water from the well had mysterious powers, curing the sick and, some said, restoring sight. Stories spread far and wide, telling the tale of St. Eilian's sacred well.
Cadwallon, the blind Prince, knew that he had been wrong to steal Eilian's cattle. His heart was full of remorse. He ordered that all of Eilian's livestock should be returned to Eilian and sent the animals back to their rightful owner with a message of repentance. Eilian replied, asking the Prince to visit him without delay. Cadwallon was led on his horse to the holy man's little church at Llaneilian. Seeing Cadwallon's humility and sorrow Elian forgave him. Eilian bathed the prince's eyes and his sight was restored.
'How may I repay you?' asked the prince.
'Let me have enough land to keep my animals on. That is all I ask,' replied the holy man.
'How much do you want?' asked Cadwallon, feeling far less humble now that his sight was restored.
'Let us settle the amount with a race,' answered Eilian.
'What sort of race? Asked the prince.
'Your hunting dogs shall chase my stag, starting from here. The place where they catch him will be the boundary of the land you shall grant me,' replied Eilian.
Cadwallon liked the idea. He owned the fastest hunting dogs in the land. They would soon catch the stag, he thought. He agreed and the race began.
Eilian's stag ran like the wind but the dogs strained to keep up. The stag thundered across the countryside with the dogs close behind. It was going to be a short race. Then, the stag leapt a huge gorge and disappeared into the distance. The dogs, unable to cross the chasm, returned dejected to their master.
The gorge the stag leapt is known today as Llam y Carw (The Deer's Leap). Prince Cadwallon kept his word, and that is how Saint Eilian became one of the most powerful and biggest landowners on Anglesey.
A religious community grew at Llaneilian and for centuries the sacred stream served the holy order well. Pilgrims travelled for miles to pay 1 groat, a sliver coin worth two pence, to drink the healing water and Llaneilian grew into one of the richest churches in Wales.
Table of Contents
Chapter 16?St. Patrick's Shipwreck
In 432AD an open boat was sailing from England to Ireland when it was caught in a storm. The wind had quickly strengthened from the west during the afternoon. By the evening the little vessel was being driven east by the storm, unable to reach a safe haven. The sail had shredded in a violent gust. The crew was wet and cold. They huddled together in the bottom of the boat, exhausted from battling with the wind, helpless and afraid as the stricken craft rolled and pitched through the mountainous waves. They could hear the thunder of water crashing against cliffs, somewhere nearby in the darkness.
Only one man showed no fear on that dark night. Bishop Patrick was used to danger. His journey from Rome had been full of adventure. From the beginning, when the Holy Father Pope Celestine had given the bishop his mission to convert Ireland to the true faith, Patrick had known that it would test his devotion and his courage to the limit.
The journey to Ireland had been a long one. Surely, he thought, God would not bring him so far just to be drowned on the final sea voyage. He knelt and prayed for the vessel to survive the storm. The wind swung to larboard away from the coast and the little vessel turned, towards the open sea, away from the land, away from certain disaster on the jagged cliffs that thundered in the darkness. The bishop crossed himself and muttered a silent thanks to God for his timely intervention.
There was a flash of lightening. In that second the sailors saw the rocks ahead. The boat, lifted by a giant wave, rose above the rocks and then dropped like a stone. The keel snapped and the vessel disintegrated throwing men and cargo into the churning water.
By the first light of dawn the wind had died down. Bishop Patrick was lying on the rocks half submerged in a pool of salty water. He sat up and looked around. He was alone. As the light improved, Patrick found that he was stranded on a small barren island. He was hungry. The salt had split his lips and his throat was swollen. In the distance he could see land.
Patrick searched the island for wreckage, anything that would ease his thirst and hunger. He found a wine bladder caught up in the rocks. It was full. He pulled out the stopper and drank deeply. The wine burned as he swallowed. Nearby was a shattered basket of loaves. Its contents, soaked by the sea, lay ruined on the ground. Patrick ate greedily and drank more wine to mask the salty taste of the bread. Then he prayed and slept.
The sun was high in the sky when he woke. His head ached and he had a foul taste in his mouth. The wine and the salty bread had done their worst. He stood up and looked at the land. Somehow he thought he had to escape from his island prison. An
idea came to him.
He poured the last of the wine away and blew into the bladder. When it was inflated he fitted the stopper, pushing it firmly home. He tied the bladder to his body, jumped into the sea and started to swim towards the land. The cold water cleared his head and, to start with, Patrick made good progress. As Patrick swam, the current carried him along the coast towards high cliffs where there was no chance of getting ashore. He swam until, weary, cold and thirsty, he realised that swimming against the current was hopeless. He floated exhausted, with the bladder resting under his stomach as the tide carried him along. Now the current was carrying him further out to sea.
Patrick mumbled a quiet prayer and sank into a dull torpor. As he did so, the tide turned and he began to drift back along the coast. A shrill cry above Patrick's head woke him with a start. Patrick looked up to see gulls returning to their nests and squabbling as they arrived. He was floating right below the cliffs. In front of him was a small ledge, level with the sea and a cave. Patrick swam to the ledge, pulled himself out of the water and stumbled into the cave. Inside the cave, water trickled from the roof. He tasted the water. It was fresh and pure. Patrick filled the bladder and drank his fill. His prayer had been answered.
Before continuing his journey to Ireland Patrick built a church at the top of the cliff to give thanks to God for saving him when the ship was wrecked on Middle Mouse Island. The Welsh call the island 'Ynys Badrig' (Patrick's Island). 'Llanbadrig' (St Patrick's Church) is still standing in the cliffs today, 1600 years later.
Pope Celestine I died in 431AD, before Patrick reached Ireland. Bishop Patrick's mission to Ireland was a success. He arrived in Ireland in 433AD, one year after being shipwrecked at Mouse Island and, using the shamrock to explain the holy trinity, introduced Christianity to the Irish. He also, it is believed, drove every serpent from the country.
Although Patrick has never been canonised by a pope, he is recognised as a saint by many religious orthodoxies and is the Patron Saint of Ireland, his Saint's Day being celebrated on March 17th each year. Before he died in 493AD, Patrick wrote The Declaration or 'Confessio' containing an account of his life, written in Latin.